


silhouette of shadows

by sangi



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-17
Updated: 2008-06-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3388364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangi/pseuds/sangi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Time changes everything,” Iroh remarks quietly to the dark room. The stark blue tattoos of the Avatar-boy in front of him stand out through the darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	silhouette of shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2008, posted here again for archival reasons.

1\. _faith, just a tiny spark of faith_

The sun rises solemnly, painfully slow, in the sky, the red rays reaching out to shadow the blood that had been spilt throughout the palace. The Avatar sits somewhere quietly, locked away. His companions are scattered throughout the capital, taking care of matters while their ringleader is incapacitated. 

Zuko stares at the throne in front of him. _The intangible has become… tangible._ Precariously, his hand reaches out to touch it, before he suddenly fists it and brings it back by his side. “It will never be mine,” he murmurs quietly to the empty chambers. “Uncle should have it. He deserves it.”

* * *

 

2. _change to in the starry night_

“Time changes everything,” Iroh remarks quietly to the dark room. The stark blue tattoos of the Avatar-boy in front of him stand out through the darkness. 

The Dragon of the West stands, leaning against the wall, listening to the almost silent breaths of the airbender. “Will I ever forget?” The boy finally asks.   


Iroh looks away as the boy looks up, eyes dark and hollow (and suddenly he is sad with the realization that war has made children grow up much too quickly). “No. You will never forget.”

* * *

 

3\. _there are not many hours like this to waste_

Iroh stands in front of the crowd after the coronation, the fire emblem on his head glinting dangerously in the firelight for the world to see. The people cheer and smile and hope that this era may be better than the last, than him. 

_ The Dragon of the West,  _ they whisper, _has finally claimed his birthright._

Behind Iroh stand Aang, Zuko, and the other few members of their group that survived: the core. They, farther up in the line behind the new Fire Lord than the others, can hear the joking and the laugher floating up from the celebration.   


( _Aang can still feel the blood soaking – soaking – through his clothes, to his skin, through his body.)_

“I’m sorry,” the fire prince says abruptly. “That you had to…”

Aang smiles, a bitter world-weary smile, and responds vaguely, “It’s the only way it could have happened.”

“No,” Zuko says softly, caustically. “It should have been me.”


End file.
